Rogers doesn't appear frantic on the outside, but he sure feels it on the inside. Those two words, I need, with nothing after them are tearing him apart; he doesn't know what to do, how to help. He wants to insist that Winter does need water. He wants to wrap him in his arms again, wrap his entire body around Winter's until nothing can touch it or take him away. He wants a lot of things, none of which are what Winter needs, even if the other doesn't know what exactly he does need, himself.

"Can you walk?" he asks, trying to keep his voice calm and level still, not let the desperation that's his own damn problem leak through. "We should get some distance - we can go home."

Something about that feels like a lie - they can never go home - but it's the next best thing. At least they can be not here and he can keep an eye on Winter and make sure he isn't going to... to shrink again.

God, please don't let that happen again.